


the rules to the office fridge

by melonews



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, the relationships are really vague tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonews/pseuds/melonews
Summary: Mingyu’s food is missing and the note taped to the fridge says:If you give me ₩50,000, your precious soup will make it back to you. You have until 12:30. –SeungkwanAnd there’s a picture of the crime.Evidence.His container of soup is taped to a plastic cup that is considerably smaller, and whoever took the photo (Seungkwan, Mingyuknowsit) is pointing a plastic spoon at it. Mingyu almost whimpers. He hasn’t gotten to eat his own food in what feels like weeks.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo, Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	the rules to the office fridge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chunghas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunghas/gifts).



> 200612 
> 
> i don't know what this is i wrote it in 2 hours it is 4 am nothing is real  
> not beta read so if there's any mistakes pretend like u do not see thank u~  
> love u tho babe u better like it

“Seungkwan.” 

Deep inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. It is 11:47 in the morning. The artificial lights of the office glare the employees into consciousness at all times during the day. The clack of fingers typing fills the air and the clouds outside the shuttered windows are heavy with rain. Inhale. Exhale. 

_ “Seungkwan.”  _

He groans to himself, lips curling into a sneer as he pushes back away from his desk and computer to swivel to face the annoying bastard that won’t leave him the fuck alone–

“What, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu is tall and takes up space, both physically and verbally, and he towers over everyone around him. Seungkwan hates how he has to look up at him from his seat, but to stand up would be even more embarrassing. At least sitting down gives him an excuse as to why he has to glare  _ up _ at him. 

“You took my lunch from the fridge, didn’t you,” Mingyu accuses, eyes narrowed. The obnoxious office lights glint off of his skin, and he shines golden and beautiful and way too brightly for this fuck ass office job he’s working at. Seungkwan hates him. 

Seungkwan scoffs. “Like hell I did.” He turns back to his work, but Mingyu grabs his chair before he can. Seungkwan scowls up at him. “I haven’t stolen your goddamn lunch any of the times you’ve told me I have, but you don’t listen so maybe I should  _ start.” _

“You asshole–” 

Seungkwan cuts him off. “Now, leave me _ alone  _ to do my work like I’m being paid to do. I know it’s hard for you to wrap your miniscule brain around, actually completing the tasks you’re assigned, but I promise, some people actually can function in the adult world and  _ want  _ to keep their jobs. So let go of my chair and go get a muffin from the cafe or go cry into a urinal, whatever it is that you do when things don’t go your way. Your break ends in 20 minutes.” 

Mingyu barely restrains himself from spinning Seungkwan with enough force that his leg would smack into the metal desk. He bares his teeth and stalks off. With a huff, the younger turns back to his work, mood soured and expression angry. 

Neither notice Lee Chan, two desks across from Seungkwan, slowly lowering the kimchi until it’s hidden by his desk, mouth twisting (somewhat) guiltily. 

  


  


  


Seungcheol sighs and delicately places his head into his palms, the direct opposite of what he wishes he could do. (Bash his head through the cubicle wall, firstly, then shred every paper in the office, and ooh, maybe burn it down?) 

“Mr. Choi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” comes from the doorway, formal and sly. (Take away that question mark, he is  _ going _ to burn this building to the ground.)

Gritted teeth are hidden behind tight lips stretched into his customer smile. It’s too fucking early. “Of course not, Mr. Jeon. You’re always welcome.” (Maybe burn it with him still inside…?) 

Hooded eyes peek out from just too long of bangs, dark and full of  _ something _ . Seungcheol adjusts his collar. 

A lazy smile stretches its way across that (stupidhandsomeuglygodkillmehesbeautiful) face, like a cat stretching into the sun. “Glad to know,” he murmurs, eyes flickering up and down and all across Seungcheol. He suppresses a shiver and nothing could stop him from watching him leave his perch of leaning against the doorframe with a wink and a coy glance over his shoulder. 

(He should look into how to make a Molotov cocktail, make it exciting.) 

  


  


  


“Do you think Jeon and Choi are fucking, be honest.” 

“Are you serious? No way. They can’t stand each other.” 

“Are you being purposefully obtuse or…?”    
  
“Fuck you.”  _ (A pause. Two twin sips of coffee in the break room.)  _ “Fine. Let’s make a bet.” 

“On what?” 

_ (Rolling eyes.)  _ “If Choi and Jeon are fucking or not. I bet no; it’s not like anybody can catch them even if they were. I think Choi would actually commit a violent crime if that happened to him. Or combust on the spot.”    
  
“He’s really into flames, isn’t he…”  _ (A shrug.) _ “Sure. What will I get when I win?” 

  


  


  


There is a blue mug on Minghao’s desk. It is full of an assortment of pencils, pens, erasers, and paper clips. There is no order to it and it makes it easier. His desk is neat enough. (Minghao has a  _ system, _ alright? Fuck off, Jihoon.) 

Besides, it’s not like the desk across from him is in any better shape. Vernon has even more stray papers just laying around with scraps filled with scribbles shoved into any space left available. It’s a wonder he gets anything done. But he does and he gets it done well and Jihoon loves him and everybody loves him and Minghao–

Vernon doesn’t have a mug. Vernon has a red solo cup with stupidly endearing sharpie scribbles decorating the sides of it. There’s musical notes and lines and plain flowers and Minghao would be lying if he didn’t fall in love on the spot, regardless of his actual talent. In his cup are exactly six black pens, four blue pens, and five red ones. An even fifteen. But the brand must suck because he runs out of ink in his red pens every week and Minghao has taken to storing an extra box in his drawer to offer to the younger at the first hint of pen-riddled frustration. 

Junhui calls him pathetic and tells him to actually get along with it. 

Minghao doesn’t think it’s one-sided. Vernon’s entire being softens when he sees Minghao and it makes something weird and soft like the scratchy yet fluffy feeling of artificial feathers erupt in his chest. 

Besides. There’s a pen with a small piece of paper rolled around the body of it, naming a question, a number, and a heart. Specifically at the bottom of the box in his drawer. It gives him enough time. 

  


  


  


“Do you think he’ll notice?” 

“Nah. His water bottle is too dark to see if it’s not water.” 

  


  


  


If there is a thing Joshua prides himself on most, it’s his consistent fresh and minty breath. It has given him many things in life and his self-esteem has never been higher. Great, right? All he has to do is suck mints and chew gum like he’s recovering from nicotine. Sometimes his jaw aches, but then he thinks of the jawline! And the pain is bearable. 

Plus, it helps with prospective partners. 

For example, when he ducked down directly into Jihoon’s face to whisper a question to him, minty breath on full display, the man’s face had burned red and it took him multiple seconds to formulate a response. 

Joshua smirks just thinking about it. He makes eye contact with Jihoon across the room and winks and ah–there’s the red again. Music to his ears, art to his eyes, beauty to the world. 

  


  


  


Spacing out at work isn’t anything new. The birds are chirping and the traffic is rumbling and the dust is circulating; how could anyone focus on a computer screen with all that going on? 

Staring absently across the room has its perks too. His officemates have gotten used to it and just assume he doesn’t actually notice what’s going on around him.    
  
Which isn’t exactly wrong. But Junhui knows how to act, alright, he knows how to school his expression to look vacant and empty so he can watch the people around him do messed up shit without them noticing. Makes for great blackmail material. 

This is what he’s doing when he watches Jihoon walk away from his desk and sees Seokmin casually, but completely obviously, walk past it to snatch the water bottle. He disappears into the breakroom and when the door swings open, he can see Soonyoung’s barely natural hair in there, too. 

Moments pass, and Soonyoung is the one to exit with the water bottle. Jihoon is already at his desk again, engrossed in his work. Junhui knows he’ll notice the second Soonyoung approaches, though. His guard will be on high alert. 

But, oh, what’s this? Joshua is making his way across the room, and he’s leaning down  _ close _ to Jihoon, flashing those pearly whites disarmingly, and  _ this  _ is an interesting turn of events. Jihoon is turning  _ red _ and Soonyoung is hurrying past, quietly setting down the bottle before backtracking. Joshua stays in front of Jihoon, whose face is getting even redder, for one more moment before he pulls away with a slight wave of his fingers and an over-enthusiastic “Thanks, Jihoonie!” 

Junhui watches and nobody else notices. It’s fine. The day is almost over and there’s sunlight streaming in and the dust particles are highlighted as they dance around the room. He won’t interfere, but he keeps it tucked away. Maybe Jeonghan will know what to do with it. 

  


  


  


The office day ends and everybody is bustling around. 

Junhui and Jeonghan are the first to leave, piling into the same car. Junhui leans against the window, eyes slipping shut as he sleepily recounts the Jihoon story. Jeonghan’s eyes lighten up from the dull light they were at. Maybe they can do something with this. 

Next to leave is Vernon. He smiles widely at Minghao with a promise to “See you tomorrow, hyung.” He turns to walk to Jihoon before he can see the flush rise on Minghao’s cheeks. Jihoon’s stress seems to fall away when the younger enters his sight and a fond smile replaces it. Vernon gives him the same promise with a carefree smile and then he’s off. 

The rest filter out in a small flurry of movement, until the office is empty and all that is left is Seungcheol and Wonwoo. 

They reach the door at the same time, but Seungcheol is just a smidge faster. He opens the door with a curt, “Mr. Jeon.” 

Wonwoo nods his head in acknowledgement. “Mr. Choi.” 

The day is done. 

  


  


  


**TO:** chan 

hey 

answer me  _ (3:23 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

What are you doing up?  _ (3:31 AM) _

  


**TO:** chan

honestly i’ve been so worried 

did u hear about maya hee??  _ (3:32 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong 

Huh? 

Maya who?  _ (3:34 AM)  _

  


**TO:** chan 

maya haha  _ (3:34 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

Please do not talk to me outside of work  _ (3:45 AM)  _

  


  


  


The morning finds Seungkwan reading a sign taped to the company fridge. 

It reads:  _ (Seungkwan) Do NOT!!!!! take Mingyu’s food. We all get space in the fridge for our own food and if you (Seungkwan) didn’t bring anything, that’s your (Seungkwan’s) own fault. Don’t make it my problem _

Seungkwan scoffs. It’s not like he would even take it, the hell? He doesn’t even know why Mingyu has latched onto blaming him when he’s never done it. It’s absurd. 

Seokmin interrupts his brooding, a sharp laugh piercing the morning air that is still waking up. “Oh, my god,” he whispers to himself through hands covering his face. “Oh, my  _ god _ . I have to tell Soonie.” He whips out his phone. His chuckles edge on the verge of hysterical. 

Seungkwan scowls and turns to the coffee maker. 

  


  


  


Today is the day, Minghao decides. 

It’s Thursday, meaning Vernon will run out of red ink probably. Tomorrow will be Friday, meaning it would be the perfect timing for their date. 

He walks in with a bounce in his step. 

  


  


  


Chan doesn’t know how he got roped into this. One second he was sitting down and getting settled (coat on the chair, bag beside the desk, pencils out, pens in cup, papers exactly to the left of the center) when Soonyoung all but tips him over when he slings an arm over his shoulder. 

“Channie-yah,” Soonyoung coos sweetly, “would you like to print something for me.”    
  
It’s not a question.    
  
Soonyoung’s arm is like lead as Chan tries to sink to be one with the pleather chair. He can feel the regret already. 

  


  


  


It’s only been a couple hours into the day, but Joshua is on a roll. He’s zoned in on the work he needs to accomplish. Next to him, he can hear the clack of Jeonghan hitting his keyboard and the occasional swish of his hair moving across his back and shoulders. It fades into the background and Joshua is in the  _ zone _ . 

He doesn’t notice Jihoon getting up from his desk or the way Vernon gives him a fist bump as he passes by, but he does notice when Jihoon parks his ass right on Joshua’s desk. 

He startles out of his zone, blinking stupidly up at Jihoon. The longer he stares, the more he thinks he sees pink starting to rise, but then Jihoon is leaning forward, close, very close, and his breath smells like  _ cinnamon– _

Joshua looks dumbstruck, he’s sure, but.  _ Jihoon _ . And  _ cinnamon. Jihoon and cinnamon! _

He hears what Jihoon is saying, probably staring too intently at his lips, but he doesn’t actually retain any of it. There’s a question and Joshua somehow answers and then he’s gone. 

Joshua leans back in his chair, eyes wide and nose full of cinnamon, and Jeonghan is laughing so hard he gets a stitch in his side and he almost falls out of the chair. 

  


  


  


An uproar happens at lunch. 

Mingyu finds his lunch missing. Again. What’s even worse is the fact that someone has covered his note with another one!   
  
_ Dear Kim Mingyu,  _

_ You have made your demands and expectations extremely clear. Unfortunately, words will not stop me.  _

_ Better luck next time.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Boo Seungkwan _

He rips it off the fridge and storms out to the culprit’s desk, mouth curling angrily around the tinsults he’s preparing. 

Mingyu fails to see Seokmin and Soonyoung hunched behind their screens, cheeks stuffed and barely keeping their laughter in. 

Seungkwan’s squawks of indignation cover their laughter. 

  


  


  


There is a rap of knuckles against his door. Seungcheol already knows who it is. 

“Mr. Jeon!” he says brightly, teeth clenched. “What can I do for you today?”    
  
Wonwoo stares at him long and hard. Seungcheol heats up. 

“There seems to be, ah, an issue arising with the break room.” His eyes glisten with mirth and a corner of his mouth quirks up. 

Seungcheol sighs. A headache is forming. 

  


  


  


Vernon does not run out of red ink that day. Minghao doesn’t worry. 

Vernon is laidback, so Minghao hopes that he’ll accept even on the day of. 

He’ll try again tomorrow. 

  


  


  


**TO:** chan

knock knock  _ (1:49 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

No.  _ (1:51 AM)  _

  


**TO:** chan

knock knock  _ (1:51 AM) _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

I will block you  _ (1:52 AM)  _

  


**TO:** chan

knock knock  _ (1:52 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

Oh my god, fine

Who’s there?  _ (1:52 AM)  _

  


**TO:** chan

daisy  _ (1:52 AM)  _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

Daisy who  _ (1:53 AM)  _

  


**TO:** chan 

DAISY ME ROLLIN 

THEY HATIN  _ (1:53 AM) _

  


**TO:** Joshua Hong

I hate you 

You are so unfunny 

I wish we never met

Lose my number

I am begging you to never speak to me again  _ (2:06 AM)  _

  


  


  


Vernon runs out of red ink on Friday. 

He smiles sheepishly at Minghao, opening his mouth to ask for another. Minghao beats him to it, already reaching out with a new one. It has a paper wrapped around it. Curiously, Vernon unravels it. 

He reads it once, twice, three times. He glances up, mouth curling into a soft, pleased smile. Minghao has busied himself in his work, blush creeping up to the tips of his ears. 

Reaching out, Vernon taps his hand with his. Minghao looks up, smiling but nervous. Vernon smiles back. 

  


  


  


“Oh, Channieeee,” Soonyoung draws out.    
  
Chan groans and covers his face, but that’s mostly to cover his laugh. 

  


  


  


Mingyu’s note remained on the fridge and Friday, it was met with a new note. 

Mingyu’s food is missing and the note says:  _ If you give me ₩50,000, your precious soup will make it back to you. You have until 12:30. –Seungkwan _

And there’s a picture of the crime. _Evidence._ His container of soup is taped to a plastic cup that is considerably smaller, and whoever took the photo (Seungkwan, Mingyu  _ knows _ it) is pointing a plastic spoon at it. Mingyu almost whimpers. He hasn’t gotten to eat his own food in what feels like weeks.

But he will not back down to Seungkwan, of all people. No, Mingyu has some dignity left. 

He’s muttering curses to himself as he rummages around for something to eat. That’s how Wonwoo finds him, head ducked into the fridge with obscenties flowing out as smooth as butter. He glances to the fridge door and smirks in amusement. He backs out before Mingyu can notice and heads to Seungcheol. 

  


  


  


“Mr. Choi. They are now ransoming the food,” Wonwoo reports, a smile tucked away. 

Seungcheol groans and just barely stops himself from slamming his head into his desk. 

Wonwoo laughs softly to himself. He walks closer to smooth a hand over his back. Seungcheol tenses and slowly looks up. Their eyes meet and the air feels dry. 

A couple moments pass. Seungcheol clears his throat and Wonwoo removes his hand quickly. Seungcheol gets up and nods somewhat awkwardly. “Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” 

  


  


  


Vernon and Minghao take their lunch break together. They lean against the counters in the break room, talking to each other quietly, heads ducked close. 

Raised voices from outside reach them (“Mingyu, I swear to god I have never once touched your stupid, disease-ridden food!”) and they both laugh, leaning into one another. 

Their hands are connected loosely between them and Vernon’s eyes are warm like melted honey over the rim of his coffee mug. 

  


  


  


There’s a new note taped to the fridge. 

It reads:  _ Whoever has been stealing Mingyu’s food (Boo Seungkwan), please report to Mr. Choi’s office at 2 PM sharp. Give back the food and do not charge Mingyu.  _

Seungkwan glowers at Mingyu and makes sure to stomp on his toes as he stalks back to his desk. Mingyu makes a rude gesture to his back. 

Chan all but falls into Soonyoung, almost unable to stop his peels of laughter from filling the room. Seokmin is already in tears. 

(Mingyu doesn’t get his food back.) 

  


  


  


At 2 PM sharp, approximately twenty minutes after the last sign was put up, Seungkwan resignedly makes his way to Seungcheol’s cubicle. He makes sure to kick Mingyu’s chair on his way. 

He opens the door, eyes angled down, ready to grovel and plead his innocence. He takes a deep breath in to prepare himself and lifts his eyes. 

“Mr. Choi, I–  _ Oh, my god!”  _

  


  


  
“Ha! I fucking knew it! I told you!  _ I told you!  _ I won the bet! Fucking suck it. Now give me that lap dance.” 


End file.
